Of Shorts and Interruptions
by EmilyLovesRichard
Summary: We probably all feel the same about Patrick's shorts in 5X06, so here is a story about them. This story was written by the wonderful oh-mai-word and me!
1. Chapter 1

_The wonderful and very talented **oh-mai-word** and I wrote this new fanfiction together. We hope you'll enjoy it and would be very happy about reviews! _

_Oh and very important do check out **oh-mai-word** 's other fanfictions, they are amazing! You definitely have to read them!_

 _Enjoy yourself ;)_

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It was a typical Saturday afternoon. Shelagh had just finished folding the last of Patrick's clothes and began to make her way up the stairs before Angela woke from her nap. As she opened the closet, she couldn't help but wonder how a grown man like Patrick had such terrible taste when it came to clothes. Since they had gotten married Shelagh began to throw out the worst items of clothing she could find, but somehow Patrick managed to find even more terrible clothes in the back of their closet. She spied a horrible green jumper from the corner of her eye. She had nothing against green in general, but this was not a rich forest green nor even a light color that resembled spring, but a color that reminded her of something that Angela would cough up when she was sick. She made a mental note to buy Patrick another jumper before she disposed of this one. That way, he wouldn't notice what he was missing, which, she told herself, was not much. After all, he clearly did not pay much attention to what he wore, and any improvement to his wardrobe since their marriage could be attributed to her. As she hung up his shirts, she spied another horrible piece of clothing. In the back of the closet lay a crumpled pair of shorts, whose color was by far the most awful kind of brown she had ever seen. How he found such colors, she had no idea. It could almost be considered a talent. A very unfortunate talent, that brought on more embarrassment than admiration and sometimes even made him look terribly ridiculous. She was just about to pull out the shorts to give them to the nuns when she heard someone climbing up the stairs and opening the door to their bedroom.

"Good afternoon, my dear." Patrick said as he entered their bedroom.

"Hello, Patrick." Shelagh smiled, hoping he didn't see the shorts she had in her left hand, but luck was not on her side.

"Oh, I had forgotten about those shorts." Patrick told her, as he reached for them. "I used to love wearing them when Timothy was younger. Maybe if the weather is nice enough this summer I can wear them again."

"Perhaps, Patrick. Perhaps not." She turned away, attempting to stifle a laugh.

"What? You don't like them?" He felt both surprised and amused at his wife's reaction.

"Maybe we could think about investing in a new pair for the summer if we go on holiday," she placed the shorts back into the closet. "And to answer your question, I don't dislike them, but I'm not sure that I like them either. But I do like the person who wore them." A mischievous glint appeared in her eye.

Patrick grinned knowingly at her "You do?" He took a step closer to her, now they were only centimeters apart.

"You know I do." She told him, running her hands over his chest and letting them come to rest on his shoulders. She pushed herself up and locked his lips with hers in a loving and longing kiss. Patrick moved his hands to rest on her waist and pulled her even closer to him.

As the kiss got more passionate, Shelagh pulled back.

"Patrick, we can't. What about the children?" She reminded him, still breathless from their kissing.

"Don't worry. Angela is napping and Tim is at Jack's." He told her between the kisses he was now caressing her neck with. Upon being reminded of Tim's whereabouts Shelagh gave into Patrick's ministrations. She moved her hands over his back, while his hands slowly began opening the buttons of her blouse.

"Oh Patrick!" Shelagh urged, as his lips caressed her collarbone. She didn't know how, but by now she was leaning against the doors of their closet. Her kisses matched his intent, and for a moment, they were all alone, in a world of their own making, until sound disturbed their emotions.

"Mum! Are you here?"

They had not even heard the front door open, and Timothy appeared to be climbing the stairs.

"Patrick! I can't…" She whispered urgently as he understood her and removed his hands from her waist so that she could button up her blouse and tuck it in again.

"Mum?" Timothy waited for a response. He had learned _never_ to walk into his parents' room unannounced. One afternoon, he caught them holding each other in a tight embrace and had decided that he would never expose himself to any more of their mushy stuff. He often thought that they could have had their own television show. He had heard some of the girls in the area talking to each other about romance and, if anything, his parents seemed to him to be in possession of the sentiment.

"Yes, Timothy, do come in." Shelagh answered, when both she and Patrick were decent again.

Timothy opened the door carefully and peaked inside before entering completely.

"Tim, what are you doing at home?" Patrick asked, concerned.

"Aren't you feeling well?" Shelagh added.

"I'm fine mum, I promise, but Jack's not feeling well so his mum sent me home," Timothy told them. His mother was still overprotective when it came to his health and although he found it very annoying at times, he wouldn't want it any other way.

"That was a good decision on her part. Is there anything that you needed?"  
"Yes, mum. I left before we got to eat."

"Ah, that sounds more like you. Run along into the kitchen. I started a pie, and you can begin to roll out the dough for the crust. I'll be down in just a moment."

"Thank you!" Tim tumbled out of the room and down the stairs in a rush.

"Well then," Patrick turned to face his wife once more. "I suppose we'll have to continue this, hmm, conversation at another time."

"Absolutely," she took a step closer, "We'll absolutely have to continue."

Just as their lips met for a second time…

"Mum! I can't find the rolling pin!"

"Coming, Tim, just a moment!"

Patrick and Shelagh both sighed, and quite audibly, at that.

"We have to enjoy having him around, he's growing up so fast." Shelagh told Patrick with a gentle smile on her lips as she left the room and made her way downstairs.

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TBC and don't forget to review ;)


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's the second chapter of our fanfiction. Thanks for the positive feedback, we're glad you all like the story so far! Please do remember that this story was written by **oh-mai-word** and me ;)_

 _We hope you'll enjoy the second chapter and remember reviews are greatly appreciated!_

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The excitement in the Turner household was palpable the morning of their trip. Angela was displaying behavior that aligned itself appropriately with her name. Tim was playing with her while Shelagh and Patrick finished the last of the packing.

Shelagh was just placing the last of her cardigans inside the suitcase, when Patrick reentered their bedroom.

"So, what do you think?" Patrick asked her with a smirk on his lips.

Shelagh looked up from the suitcase and couldn't help but giggle. Patrick was standing in front of her wearing those terrible shorts, which she had wanted to throw out, with his hands resting on his hips, grinning at her.

"Are they really that terrible?" He asked, becoming slightly insecure about his appearance.

Shelagh scanned him from head to toe and back up again, a smile still playing on her lips.

"No Patrick. I have to admit, seeing you in them makes them look a lot nicer than they did lying in our closet." Shelagh shut their suitcase and took a step closer to where Patrick was standing.

"So you don't mind me wearing them? You don't think they make me look ridiculous?"

Shelagh stepped even closer to him, so that she was now standing right in front of him.

"Partick you definitely do not look ridiculous. Trust me I would tell you if you did, because no husband of mine is allowed to walk around looking ridiculous." Shelagh smiled at him reassuringly and let her hand wander down his arm.

"Although, Patrick, they are a wee bit… eccentric. I think that we'll have to find a way to free you from them at some point," She looked him in the eye and winked.

"Could it be, Nurse Turner, that you have a weakness for my shorts?" Patrick teased her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

"And what, pray tell, made you come to this conclusion, Dr. Turner?" She asked innocently, while wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer him.

"Well, Nurse Turner, history has shown us that whenever we have a conversation about these shorts you get in a… well, let's just say certain mood." Patrick lowered his head and caressed her cheek with his lips.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She laughed as she turned and placed her lips next to his.

Patrick moved his hand onto her back and let them slowly wander up and down her spine, while their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. Shelagh buried her right hand in his thick hair and pulled him even closer, while Patrick's hands wandered downwards.

"I love it when you wear trousers." He told her breathless.

Shelagh threw her head back and laughed "Oh you do? And why is that?"

"Well … They are very defining, much more than most of your skirts." He admitted, but didn't move his hands from where they were resting.

"Well I'm very glad you approve, but I think I'll continue wearing skirts as long as you continue to wear those shorts." She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek in a teasing manner.

"Well that's a shame, but no matter what you wear or _don't wear_ you look absolutely beautiful." He told her, his eyes filled with love.

"I could say the same about you, but I'm afraid I cannot seem to utter the words while you are wearing these shorts," she teased him.

"Then I suppose we should get rid of them."

"Agreed."

Shelagh let her hands wander down Patricks chest in a teasing manner, until they reached the edge of his shorts.

"I'll give you a hand, if that's alright with you," she told him, her fingers playing with the edge of his shorts.

"That would be very much appreciated," Patrick answered in a low voice, trying to calm himself down.

"It will be my pleasure," Shelagh said and slowly opened the top button of his shorts, her eyes focused on his.

Patrick mentally sorted out patient files, to calm himself down. Whenever he was with Shelagh he felt like a teenager, who couldn't control his urges.

Shelagh seductively bit her lower lip as she took hold of his zipper. It was old and was giving her some trouble.

"It appears that these shorts are not as agreeable as I had hoped," Shelagh noted.

"I'm sure I can do something about that." Patrick moved his hands downwards and let them come to rest on top of hers.

"Mum! Dad! Hurry up or we'll be late."

Disappointed and dumbfounded, Patrick and Shelagh stared blankly at each other for a few moments. They had _completely_ forgotten.

"Alright Tim! We're on our way!" Shelagh answered, having a hard time suppressing her giggles.

The look on Patrick's face was priceless. He looked shocked, disappointed and annoyed at the same time. Shelagh had seen this expression before. It was the very same that appeared on Sister Monica Joan's face when she was made aware of the occasional lack of cake at Nonnatus house.

"I'm beginning to think that these shorts are unlucky," Patrick told her, buttoning them up again.

"Patrick, don't be ridiculous! It has nothing to do with the shorts but with your timing." She kissed his cheek tenderly.

"Yes, yes! But it's the second time!" He told her, sulking just like Timothy did when he wasn't allowed to go to Jack's.

"Oh, Darling! We have a tent of our own don't we?" She asked, but the only reply she got was a short nod.

"Well then, I promise you that we will continue this… conversation, as you like to call it, later." She kissed his cheek one last time and turned to leave the room.

As soon as she had left the room, she turned around, smiled at him and said "Would you be a dear and please bring down our suitcase with you? Your effort will not go unrewarded," she winked at him and went downstairs to their impatiently waiting kids.

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's the last chapter of our story!_ **oh-mai-word** _and me hope you'll enjoy the final chapter._

 _We can't take credit for most of the dialogue because we "borrowed" it from the ten scene in 5.6._

 _Enjoy yourself and remember reviews would be wonderful._

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She was beginning to worry. He had left the tent 5 minutes ago with a fleeting promise to be back with a treat. The rain was beginning to intensify. She wondered if she should go after him. Just as she was about to get out of her cozy and warm sleeping bag, she saw the tent flap move.

"Room service!" He struggled to make his way through the tent flap. He knew she was probably a bit uncomfortable and thought that his little offering would brighten her evening.

"Oh Patrick!" Shelagh sighed, amused as she admired her sweet husband, skin shining from the rain.

"I put in a nip of scotch in from my handy, secret hip flask." He said taking off his hat "You wouldn't get that in the Ritz." He joked trying to make their currently unpleasant camping trip seem better.

Shelagh giggled at his attempt at optimism, usually that was her job. Patrick was usually the one who saw things plainly as they were. It was either good or bad, nothing in between. The other Nurses once told her, that the only person who could make him see the in between was her. When Shelagh tried to explain to them that it was just a side effect of marriage, the others confessed to her that she apparently also had had that power when she was still Sister Bernadette.

She struggled to swallow the drink. It was warm, she noted, and that was a definite positive, but Patrick definitely did not have the gift of drink making. Yet, he had other gifts, and as she glimpsed his shorts, she attempted to stop herself from thinking of them. She was not successful.

"Ugh! At last." Patrick quivered as he slipped into his sleeping bag, covering his legs that were only clad in his shorts. Shelagh could not contain her grin as it erupted into a smile. Those shorts! She didn't know that they adopted an even worse appearance when wet. She really must do something about it.

"My knees are freezing." He told her with a smile, trying to cover up his obvious discomfort. Since he had married Shelagh he felt much younger, but there were the moments when he couldn't deny his age. For quite some time now, his joints had started to feel uncomfortable when the weather was cold.

She tried to avert her eyes as he made himself comfortable. It was proving to be a bit difficult. She buried her face in her cup, attempting to distract herself and to hide the grin she couldn't wipe off her face. At the mention of his knees her thoughts wandered back to the shorts he was wearing. Oh, those shorts! She would never admit it freely to him, but she really had a soft spot for him in them. As she let her thoughts wander, she remembered their previous encounter that revolved around those shorts and the promise she had made, after they were so suddenly disturbed.

With one twitch in the wrong direction, his drink spilled directly onto the blanket.

"Oh, Patrick!" Shelagh protested. The mess created threatened to disturb her. For a moment, she could not keep her eyes off of it. It was one of only two things that distracted her that evening.

"No, no, no. We're on our holiday, it doesn't matter." Patrick tried to reassure her that everything was fine.

"Your sleeping bag's soaking wet!"

"At least it's warm wet." He joked and even managed to make her smile, as she took another sip out of the cup.

"What are you thinking about?" For the first time since he entered the tent, he finally stopped all that he was doing and looked at her. He was quite happy. It was just the two of them, and he loved being in her company. He saw her eyebrows contract in concern decided that whatever her response to his question was, he would not allow it to ruin their evening. Cold knees had left him resolute. He too remembered the promise she had made, just before they had started their trip. He didn't care how far they would take things , he just wanted to enjoy finally being alone with his wife. After all, with Angela and Tim and work, both at home and at the surgery, they rarely had time to simply enjoy each other's company.

As his wife mentioned her concerns regarding their children and the more or less stable tent, he of course understood her, but he himself didn't think that there was any danger of the tent collapsing. Yes, the first two attempts of setting up the tent had been unsuccessful, but the third attempt had worked and now it was as secure and stable as possible.

After his promise, Shelagh's attention was fully on him. She did not even attempt to suppress her smile this time. Her eyes happily searched for his, but Patrick's thoughts appeared to be elsewhere. Shelagh couldn't believe it, not even during their holiday was Patrick able to forget about work. She understood him, and felt the same dedication that he did for his work. Yet it seemed that he had a much more difficult time distancing himself from his profession than she did. For a moment she felt bad, that her thoughts had been on their children when they finally had some time alone together, but not for long. As much as she loved Patrick's devotion to his profession, she was disappointed that she had to acknowledge it as often as she had when they were supposed to be focused on each other.

"Patrick" she laughed. She loved being with him, but in the pouring rain and cold humidity, ulcers were the last thing she wanted to talk about.

She listened attentively as he voiced his concerns about his locum. In public, she may not have said the first thing that came to her mind, but in the privacy of their tent, Shelagh felt comfortable teasing her husband about his age. She never really thought about their age difference, and she never would if they never received looks from newcomers or strangers away from the East End. They fit together wonderfully; age is not always an accurate measure of maturity or even symbiosis.

"You're not supposed to be thinking about work." She reminded him, "If you don't mind my saying so, you're not exactly Cliff Richard yourself." She teased him.

For a moment Patrick was taken aback by his wife's blatant teasing about his age. It was something she rarely did, because she knew that from time to time, he had a hard time overcoming his insecurity about their age difference.

"I could sing a chorus of Summer Holiday, if you'd like me to." Patrick teased her back.

Finally they both had exactly what they wanted. Time alone together, with nothing to disturb them and no wandering thoughts.

Shelagh couldn't help but giggle at Patrick's teasing. She loved it when Patrick was so at ease. He rarely allowed himself to completely relax, and when he did it was only around her or the children.

Finally, she thought as they leaned closer to one another, we can finish what we started this morning. Their giggles never failed to expose themselves as they revelled in the moment.

"Dad!" Tim urgently called as his and Angela's tent snapped and fell.

Shelagh laughed a bit before she caught herself and looked over to Patrick with a mixture of amazement, disappointment, and amusement in her eyes.

Patrick just looked concerned and, most of all, defeated.

"Mum! Dad! Can we come in with you?" Timothy could be heard asking.

All the amusement was gone from Shelagh's eyes, when she set down her cup and moved to make room for the children that were about to move into the tent with them.

"Of course you can, Timothy! Do you need your father's help?"

Patrick's head turned and he gave his wife a disbelieving look.

"You want to send me out into the cold again?" He whined.

"Patrick, really! These are our children!" She chastised him.

"No, we're fine Mum! " Timothy's voice could barely be heard over the rustling he made while freeing himself and Angela from under the collapsed tent.

Patrick let out a relieved sigh, that earned him a warning glare from his wife.

"You know, now I really do think it's the shorts' fault we always get interrupted." Patrick whispered to his wife and made her lose her serious composure and giggle like a schoolgirl, just before Timothy entered the tent with a crying Angela in his arms.

"Did you say something about shorts, Dad?" Tim questioned warily.

"No!" Both Shelagh and Patrick were eager to deny any such comment as they organized themselves and the tent to accommodate their children.

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 **The End**


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